


Brush Up Against That Edge

by Salmon_Pink



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Paddling, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kon will never look at a hairbrush the same way again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brush Up Against That Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Porn Battle XII](http://battle.oxoniensis.org/), prompt "Kon/Bart, hairbrush".

“So. Uh. You really want to do this?” 

Kon isn’t actually complaining or anything. He’s just a little surprised. And his brain isn’t exactly awake yet. 

Honestly, Kon’s all for lazy morning sex. But Bart doesn’t really _do_ lazy, and apparently thinks first thing in the morning is, like, the _perfect_ time for kinky experimentation.

Which is why Kon’s stood awkwardly in the middle of Bart’s room, feeling huge and out of place despite how often he’s been in here, been _naked_ in here, been naked and touching an equally naked Bart. There’s two pieces of toast and half a cup of coffee lining his stomach, and a hairbrush hanging loosely from his fingers.

“Yep, totally sure. See, I’ve been reading about it and I think it may have an interesting appeal to me because of my ingrained resistance when it comes to yielding to figures of authority. Not to mention the sensation of being pinned or held down is always extremely difficult for me, and the concept of turning that into something sexual could be very satisfying.”

Bart’s talking a mile a minute, excited jabber as he zips around the room. He keeps holding up psychology textbooks and papers but they get dropped back into haphazard piles before Kon’s groggy mind can really register the titles.

“The hairbrush is a substitute, because this is our first time doing this and all. But if it goes well, I can look for something more professional. Did you know there are all sorts of paddles you can buy? It’s all about how heavy you want the pressure to be, how solid the sensation. But you’re strong enough not to need anything weighted. And I don’t really want anything too bruising. It’s more like I want it to _sting_ , you know? And I’ve heard that hairbrushes are good for that kind of effect.”

Bart appears in front of him, an almost gentle shove to Kon’s chest sending him flopping backwards to sit on the edge of Bart’s bed. Which is good, because Kon’s pretty sure his knees were about to give out anyway.

“But you. You really want me to _spank_ you?!” Kon says dazedly, and the hairbrush feels like it could just snap and fall apart in his grip.

“Yes. Well, technically it’s called paddling, but it tends to fall under the genre of spanking. I think you’ll enjoy it. I’m pretty sure _I’ll_ enjoy it because I was thinking about it while you were eating breakfast and I had to jerk off twice, just to take the edge off. And I know you get grouchy if you don’t get your coffee in peace but it was really, really hard waiting to talk to you about it, and do you think I should take my jeans off all the way or just have them down around my ankles?”

“Down around your knees,” Kon’s voice responds without his permission, deep and a little bit rough. Most of his brain may still be asleep, but the lizard part of it is apparently up and alert and taking notice, and Kon has to shift a little, free hand coming up to adjust himself. He’s been half-hard since Bart first started pulling him in the direction of his bedroom, but now he’s full-mast and pushing up uncomfortably against the inside of his boxers.

Bart nods, fingers already moving over his fly, and then he’s shoving his jeans down his thighs and Kon can see just _how_ excited Bart is about this whole idea. 

“Conner,” Bart says, hands suddenly squeezing at Kon’s shoulders and voice deadly serious.

Kon’s gaze snaps up to look into Bart’s narrowed amber eyes.

“I want you to do this _properly_ ,” Bart stresses, his mouth a thin line. 

Kid Flash’s battle face. For spanking. That should probably make him laugh, but Kon’s never found anything less funny in his life.

“You have to hold me down, even if I squirm, okay?”

Kon doesn’t trust his voice, so he just nods. He feels like his mouth is starting to water.

“No holding back. You can’t hurt me.”

Which isn’t fair, because Kon _can_ hurt Bart and absolutely never wants to. But he knows what Bart means is that Kon _won’t_ hurt Bart, because he knows his own strength well enough. So if he respects their limits, pushes right up against them, he can do this hard without doing it wrong.

And then Bart’s lying over his lap, t-shirt rucked up and bare ass in the air, and there’s pretty much no more room for thought inside Kon’s head.

“Okay. Go,” Bart says bluntly, sounding for all the world like a teacher telling the class to turn over their test papers and begin an exam. 

Kon sort of has to just _stare_ for a moment. Bart’s slight weight is this perfect warm pressure over his groin, and Bart’s skin is a pale creamy-white in the weak morning sunlight streaming in through the window. Bart’s ass is round and really kind of perfect, all solid speedster muscle. And, yeah, Kon’s seen Bart’s ass before, seen it quite a lot in fact, but he never really gets over how much he always wants to touch, to _squeeze_.

Bart’s hands brace against the mattress, lifting his torso up, and he twists his head to glare back through his hair. “Conner,” he hisses in warning, sounding pissy and impatient. 

But Kon’s brain just needs a second to process, and he knows that isn’t fair, because a second is a very long time to Bart. It’s the lizard part of him that reacts again, free hand moving to press down firmly against the centre of Bart’s back, to push him a little until he drops back down against the sheets.

“Oh,” Bart murmurs in this really quiet voice, and Kon can actually feel the dampness as Bart leaks pre-come against his sleep pants.

And apparently that’s the breaking point, or maybe lizard-Kon just takes full control, because his arm is moving and the hairbrush makes this hollow whooshing noise as it moves through the air.

God, the sound it makes when it connects with Bart’s flesh makes Kon feel like his ears are burning. 

Bart jerks against him, this tiny little gasp escaping his lips that maybe Kon wouldn’t be able to catch without his super-hearing. And this is a new experience for them both, and he should probably stop and make sure Bart’s still okay, that he still wants to continue. But somehow he just _doesn’t_ , arm streaking up again before it swings back down. 

It’s a cheap hairbrush, plastic, the colour a light grey. The back of it is perfectly flat, and Kon’s being careful not to put any force behind the blow that a regular human couldn’t manage, but it still leaves this perfectly oval pink mark against the curve of Bart’s ass.

Bart squeaks as the third blow hits him, fists his hands in the sheets for the fourth one. He’s breathing heavily, wordless little exclamations spilling from his mouth with every smack of the brush. Kon’s finding a rhythm to it, right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, and he can feel the way every blow rocks Bart down against his lap. _Grinds_ him down, and Bart’s leaking against him steadily now, which is totally fine because Kon’s already wet and aching himself. Material of his boxers plastered to his cock, so every thrust he forces out of Bart rasps the fabric over him, makes him lose his mind a little bit more.

There’s sweat along his hairline, a whistling in his ears that could be the swoop of the brush or his own blood rushing through his veins. Panting like he’s taken on a roomful of supervillains, and he can hear himself grunting now every time Bart rubs against him, the force of each blow echoing down across his trapped cock.

When the next blow breaks the rhythm by slapping down hard across both cheeks, low on Bart’s ass, just above the crease of his thighs, Bart _keens_ and starts bucking wildly against him. And Kon’s hand is there in an instant to push him back down, to hold him still against the bed. Bart starts shouting, trying to thrash against the hold. Voice throaty and needy and suddenly pitching higher when Kon counters the way Bart’s starting to vibrate by reaching out with his TTK to hold him place. 

Hitting even harder now, never hard enough to do any damage, trusting in his instincts to keep Bart safe. But feeling the way each connection of the brush against Bart’s flesh hums its way up his arm, and Bart is _yowling_ , clawing at the sheets. Hips grinding steadily against Kon’s lap, and Kon’s vision is starting to tunnel out, black around the edges. The next hit is at an angle, back of the brush low and tilted just slightly down between Bart’s legs, and Bart screams for it, vibrating hard enough to strain Kon’s TTK. Then he’s spilling over Kon’s thighs, whimpering when Kon doesn’t stop spanking him with the brush, forcing another spurt out of him.

And then Bart’s up and gone, just like that, and Kon groans and doubles forward, body aching for the sudden lack of friction. Blur of motion in his peripheral vision and then Bart’s back, hairbrush tugged from Kon’s unresisting fingers. Kneeling on the floor between Kon’s feet and Bart’s eyes are bright and sharp as he pushes the hairbrush between Kon’s legs. Rubber handle pointing down and pushed up snug against Kon’s balls through his sleep pants, and then Bart’s making it _vibrate_. Sudden buzz of a solid object and Kon barks out a surprised noise, eyes slamming shut, hands scrabbling at Bart’s shoulders as he jerks forward, hips slamming up against the sensation, and shoots inside his boxers. 

He lets his mind swim for a minute, slumped forwards with his arms resting on his knees. Bart’s gone when the room comes back into focus, so Kon just lets himself fall sideways on to the mattress. Tugs off his sleep pants and boxers before they get too gross, using his TTK when he can’t be bothered to arch his hips up. 

Bart zips back into the room as the fabric hits the floor, smelling like soap and shampoo.

“So, that was awesome and we need to do it again. Like, _soon_ ,” he chirps conversationally, circling the room before sprawling bodily across Kon’s chest. 

“Yeah,” Kon agrees sleepily, ruffling Bart’s damp hair. 

“I really liked it when you used the TTK,” Bart almost-whispers, fidgeting slightly until he can roll over and be nose to nose.

“Yeah?” Kon asks dreamily, and he’s pretty sure there are other words in his vocabulary, but they’re a mystery to him right now.

Bart gives him this massive, sunny, _perfect_ smile, and Kon’s already wondering when ‘soon’ will be. Not long, knowing Bart. And maybe this time Kon will take a leaf out of Bart’s book and get himself off beforehand, just to take the edge off. Then he might be able to concentrate more, really _revel_ in the way Bart’s skin turns pink and then red with every smack before speedster healing has a chance to work its magic. 

“Should I go give Rose back her hairbrush?” Bart mumbles, lips almost brushing over Kon’s.

“Uh, we’ll get her a new one,” Kon replies, and then he feels himself freeze all over. “Wait, you didn’t tell her what you wanted it for, did you?”

“Well, yeah,” Bart shrugs, sitting up so he’s straddling Kon’s waist. “She’s the one that suggested the hairbrush in the first place.”

Kon moans in despair and grabs a fistful of Bart’s t-shirt so he can drag him down into a tight bear hug. ‘Kon and Bart’s Adventures in Spanking’ is probably already the favourite topic of discussion over the breakfast table. Which means Kon’s going to be on the receiving end of a million discipline jokes for _weeks_. 

He reaches down and gives Bart’s ass a firm squeeze, just to hear Bart’s muffled squeal against his neck. 

Maybe their next spanking session needs to be _really_ soon.


End file.
